in the end we will be one
by acetamide
Summary: McCoy's leaning in so close to the communicator that he thinks he might getting odd looks but he doesn't care, because he'd press his face against the cool metal if it meant he could hear Jim better.


_in the end we will be one_

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McCoy's leaning in so close to the communicator that he thinks he might be getting some odd looks, but he doesn't care, because if it means that he can hear Jim's strained voice that little bit better than he'd press his face up against the cool metal and damn those around him on the Bridge.

"You couldn't have saved them, Jim," he says quietly, and he hears the annoyed sigh that nobody else can. "You had no idea what to expect."

"Yeah, but I got out, didn't I? I managed to escape. But fuck, Bones… they were so primitive. They sliced Matthews nearly in half, you know? And they ripped Parrish's intestines out. It was barbaric, I don't… I've never seen anything like it."

"It'll be one hell of a report to write when we finally get you back up here. They may well be primitive on the ground but their weapons capabilities are as advanced as ours. We got hit bad."

"How long do you reckon it'll take to get the transporter working again?"

"I'm a doctor, Jim. I have no idea how long it's going to take."

Jim goes silent for a few moments, and McCoy listens carefully to the labored breathing and makes a mental note that at least three of his ribs are cracked – probably more, knowing Jim, and he smirks to himself as Spock runs the Bridge behind him.

"Listen, Bones, there's something I need to tell you."

"If it's to do with the Andorian Ambassador then I really don't want to know."

"No, I'm being serious," Jim persists, his voice dropping a whisper and he goes silent again, and McCoy can almost hear Jim's heart rate increase over the communicator.

"They coming for you?" he asks sharply, and Jim hesitates for a moment before responding.

"They will be. I didn't get that much of a headstart on them – they'll find me soon. I bet they'll sniff me out or something, their noses were big enough."

"We'll get you out before they catch your scent, don't worry," McCoy reassures him, because he can hear the fear in Jim's voice and that's not something that he's used to. "And whatever it is that you want to tell me can wait until you beam up – tell me what your injuries are instead."

"That doesn't matter," Jim says, a sort of dismissive tone to his voice, and McCoy feels his hackles raise. "Listen Bones, this is important."

"I told you, I don't care about your latest inter-species relations. I kinda stopping being interested a while ago, you know."

"Dammit Bones, just let me talk."

"Not until you've told me what your injuries are."

"For fuck's sake Leonard, just listen to me for once!" Jim snaps, and Bones really does shut up then because it's been six years, three months and eight days since Jim called him by his given name, and it's enough to shock him into silence because apparently, whatever he's trying to say is important to him.

He can hear Spock barking orders in the background, but Jim's the only one that he's listening to right now and the Bridge shifts out of focus.

"You're my best friend, Bones - hell, you were my first friend. I walked onto that shuttle at the Riverside thinking I'd go to Starfleet, bed some hot cadets, ace my exams, and have done with it in three years just to prove Pike wrong. But then you were there, and you talked to me like I actually mattered and you didn't leave me. Ever. Not even when I came home stinking of booze with some airhead hanging onto my arm and kicked you out of your own bed."

"I would never leave you, Jim," Bones says quietly. "I know how that feels."

"I told you to listen," Jim bites, and he sounds frustrated and tired and just ready to give in and McCoy feels his chest tighten even more than it already has. "Because I put you through so much shit but you stuck by me - hell, you smuggled me onto the Enterprise just so I wouldn't be stranded by myself on Earth. And I can't thank you enough for that, for giving me that chance when you could have been thrown out of the Academy for it."

"I think you proved yourself that you deserved to be on this ship when you saved the Federation," McCoy says drily, and he thinks he hears a chuckle from Jim's end, which almost makes him smile. "But I don't get why you're telling me this."

Jim sighs heavily, and then comes a grunt which sounds suspiciously like a hiss of pain, and McCoy leans closer to the communicator as if he can somehow reach out and touch him through it.

"Are you okay?" he asks urgently, and there's a load of shuffling before Jim replies and his voice is more strained than before.

"I'm fine. See? There it is again, you looking after me. I never did thank you enough for that."

"You can thank me when you get your sorry ass back here in one piece."

"I'm not coming back, Bones."

McCoy swears his heart stops beating then because surely Jim can't mean that, and his mouth works silently for a moment before he's managed to get himself back together enough to talk.

"Don't be ridiculous -"

"Ask Spock. Those freaky aliens will be on me in a matter of minutes and you know what they'll do. There's no way that Scotty can get the transporter fixed before they arrive. But that's okay, you know? Spock'll take care of the ship, she's in good hands. Plus he's got you to keep him in line. I've cheated death enough times, Bones, it was always going to catch me at some point. And that's why I'm telling you all this now."

"Stop it," McCoy says tightly, because this isn't something that he wants to hear. Scotty will get the transporter fixed and he'll be back, and he'll be injured but then he always is, and McCoy will patch him up like he always does and he'll grumble and moan and it'll be _fine_. It has to be.

"I told you to listen," Jim reminds him, sounding almost amused, and McCoy wants to reach through the communicatory to smack him upside the head. "Because I never told you how much you mean to me. You were pretty much the only person I could rely on when we were at the Academy and even now, when I have a whole crew looking out for me, it's always you. I'm always thinking about you - what you're doing, what you're thinking, how you're feeling, if you would find something funny, what you'd say to Scotty's most recent accident. There's not a moment when you're not there in my head."

"What are you trying to say?" McCoy asks, because Jim's talking in riddles as though he's not going to get here even though he _has to _dammit, and everything he's saying is a little too personal and intimate and confusing for him to cope with right now.

"I'm saying that I love you, Bones. I have done since I don't know when, I've just never had the guts to put a name to it and say it to your face. Hell, even know I'm doing it over the communicator."

"Jim, I -"

"I love you, okay? And I always will. And I don't mind that I'm just a friend to you because that's more than enough, just to have you care about me at all is fine. I just wanted you to know."

"You're such an idiot."

"Excuse me?"

The tightness in his chest had eased as Jim had been speaking - it was still there, of course, because Jim was still stranded on a godforsaken planet with homicidal aliens bearing down upon him with no fucking way of getting out - but it was as though his chest had just opened. And dammit, but he was smiling even as he could feel Sulu's eyes on the back of his neck.

He opens his mouth, and all of the lights and computers go black around him. The Bridge erupts into chaos as his surroundings suddenly rush into focus, and he turns around with a snarl on his face

"What the hell is going on?" McCoy demands in the darkness, and Spock's voice is smooth and calm from the Captain's chair.

"As much power as possible has been transferred to be at Mr Scott's disposal," he informs McCoy, his voice betraying nothing. "He has found a way to fix the transporter and requires a great deal of energy to complete the repair."

McCoy's up and running before Spock's even finished speaking, pushing people out of the way as he hurtles down the corridors to the transporter room and forces his way through the door just in time to see the familiar swirling lights as James T Kirk's molecules reassemble on the transporter pad. An enormous rush of relief sweeps through McCoy and he can feel himself smiling, his muscles tensed and coiled and waiting.

Then the lights fade, and Jim is stood unsteadily on the pad with blood running down his face, one arm wrapped tightly around his chest to support his cracked ribs and the other dangling uselessly by his side, his holster hanging low on his hips.

McCoy takes three strides and takes hold of him, one arm going around to support him as he cups the back of Jim's head with his other hand and crushes their lips together and Jim makes a slightly pained noise in the back of his throat but doesn't push McCoy away. Instead he moves to grab at McCoy's hip with the hand that was holding onto his ribs, gripping tightly as he kisses him back with equal fervor even as his legs tremble beneath him.

"You're an idiot," McCoy breathes as he pulls back, eyes scanning Jim's face and taking in every bruise and cut and the way that those bright blue eyes are half-closed, and kisses him again. "Such a fucking idiot."

"Bones..."

"If you honestly thought that I'm not completely in love with you, then you really don't know me at all, kid," he mutters, grabbing at Jim's working arm and slinging it over his shoulder, helping him stumble from the pad as Chapel and M'Benga rush in wielding hyposprays.

Jim's unconscious ten seconds later but he's grinning as he slips under, and his fingers are intertwined with McCoy's.

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_end._

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End file.
